Gambolpuddy
by justalotoffeelings
Summary: In which Sheogorath makes a foray into the world of fetch-quests, Dovakhiin finds herself benefiting from it, and Marcurio is dragged along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

They were returning from a hunting trip when they came across the pool. Sigyn was surprised she hadn't seen it before; she'd spent so long exploring the area around Whiterun that it felt like she knew every individual rock by name.

It was the familiar glow of a nirnroot that caught her attention. Hefting the brace of animal pelts that she and Lydia had collected, she made her way up and over to the pond. The plant stood with its roots in the shallow water. Sigyn smiled as she bent to harvest it. Ten, _finally_. The gods-cursed fetch quest for Ingun Black-Briar had been sitting on her to-do list for ages.

"Lydia, looks like we're headed for Rift–" The words died in her throat.

Protruding from the still surface of the water was a bare, skeletal hand, clutched loosely around the hilt of a silver sword.

"Well, isn't that something," Sigyn breathed, dusting her hands off and getting to her feet.

Lydia stopped beside her. It took the housecarl a second to notice what she was looking at, but when she did her eyes widened. "I've never seen anything quite like _that_," she said.

"What a horrible way to go." Dropping the pelts on the shore, Sigyn went to step into the pool. Lydia's hand flashed out and caught her arm.

"What if it's quicksand?" she hissed.

"Relax, Lydia, there's no quicksand in these parts." Sigyn waded out into the water and stopped in front of the sword. Bending down she saw it was a simple Elven blade, like the one she had at home. Worth a little bit if she talked to the right people.

She hesitated only momentarily before reaching for the sword.

She knew as soon as her hand closed around the hilt that it had been a mistake.

Blood roared in her ears as Lydia, the pool and the sky disappeared, and a cold purple fog completely obscured her vision. Her stomach twisted in that way it did when Daedra were nearby. She cursed her bad luck. Why was she physically incapable of _walking down a road_ without something disastrous happening?

When the fog thinned, she saw she was now standing on a mound of earth in the centre of a churning yellow sea. As she watched, what looked like a cheese wheel floated past. _Oh, no. Please no._

"My word! I thought you'd never arrive! Naughty minion."

Sigyn turned on her heel, ready to scream in frustration. Sheogorath was seated on a throne supported by what appeared to be four undead scamps. He had one leg thrown over the armrest and an unnerving grin plastered across his face.

"What in Oblivion do _you_ want?"

The Madgod cackled. "Oh, my dear, it's not what I want in Oblivion that concerns us today, yesterday, whatever day it is in your little world. If it was I wouldn't be here, or you wouldn't be there. Either way."

Sigyn leant on the Elven sword and glared at the god. Sheogorath wasn't exactly high on her list of favourite people, not after the last time. Plus there was the fact that only a fifth of the sentences that came out of his mouth made sense. Sigyn was all for hiding what you meant behind fancy words (she often made a living from it), but there was a line between profitability and gibberish, and Sheogorath had made it clear which side of the line _he_ was on.

"Just tell me what you want, and I'll go get it," she sighed.

Sheogorath raised his eyebrows. "Well, that was easier than I expected. I find you little mortals usually kick up such a fuss when you're asked to do something. That's just rude, really, don't you think? I should teach you all a lesson one day. Something involving intestines."

"Yes, well, I've gotten used to running errands," Sigyn muttered. She inspected her nails casually. "And there's usually some kind of reward."

The Madgod laughed again, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "My dear, I feel that in this case your life is as suitable a reward as any."

An involuntary shiver ran up Sigyn's spine. So, it was going to be one of _those_ quests. That's the way it tended to be with Daedric Princes. "Fair enough. Alright, what do you need?"

Sheogorath settled deeper into his throne, absently petting one of the scamps. "I seem to have misplaced something of mine. Well, I suppose it could have misplaced itself, in which case it wouldn't be any of my fault. The point is, it's no longer with me, and I don't like that at all."

"What exactly is it?"

"A hand sheathe."

Sigyn frowned. "A glove."

"A magical glove!" the god said indignantly. "It's got more power in its little finger than you do in your whole body! Literally!"

"_Where_ exactly is it?"

"Really, you think I'd be here if I knew where it was?" Sheogorath asked contemptuously. When Sigyn scowled at him, he shrugged and grinned. "Alright, you've got me there. But I don't. I know that it's somewhere in Skyrim–"

"Oh, excellent."

" –probably in the mountains–"

"_Fantastic_."

"–and I'm almost 100% sure it went South–"

"_Wonderful_."

"–but apart from that I'm afraid you're on your own, my little mortal minion. Oh, don't look so glum, old chum! Someone's bound to have found it by now, and it's hard to keep my artefacts a secret for long. I'm sure _someone_ will let the cat out of the bag soon. If it's still alive. The cat, that is."

Sigyn straightened, still glowering. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. "Is there anything else?" she inquired tersely.

The god's face lit up.

Sigyn held up a hand. "Actually, you know what? I've actually got enough on my plate at the moment."

"Oh," Sheogorath said, sounding disappointed. "I guess there's always next time. You'd like to be on your way now, I suppose?"

He snapped his fingers, and the ground disappeared from under Sigyn's feet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Sigyn took her time on the way to Riften. She'd left Lydia at Whiterun, after giving her a vague explanation of what had happened and instructing her to take the Elven sword and put it in the chest beside her bed. Then she'd fetched her horse Aurelius from the stables and set off.

It took her just over a day to reach the Rift, and another two till the walls of Riften came into view. She smiled as she saw the stables. It was good to be back.

Leaving Aurelius in Shadr's capable hands, Sigyn made her way to the main gate. The guard frowned as she passed through the archway.

"Wait," he said hesitantly. "Do I know you?"

"Nope." Sigyn breezed past him before he could argue and immediately made a beeline for Eligrim's Elixirs. Springing down the stairs two at a time, she followed the walkway around till the dark wooden door appeared in the shadow of the canal wall, right at the end of the planks. The door opened with a loud creak, admitting her into the gloomy interior of the shop. It smelt like all the other alchemy shops in Skyrim; of beeswax, fresh plant cuttings, and the peculiar tang of unsealed potions. Ingun was sweeping behind the counter as she entered.

Ingun looked up at the sound of the door scraping shut. "Hello again," she said, propping her broom against a shelf. "You caught me just in time, we're about to pack up."

"I finished collecting those plants you sent me after." Sigyn untied the pouch at her belt that held the nirnroot, nightshade and deathbell and placed it on the bench. Ingun smiled and eagerly undid the tie, inspecting the topmost of the contents.

"Oh, thank you so much! Now I can finally replace the store."

Sigyn smiled back at her, waiting expectantly.

"I ought to give you a reward of some kind, right?" Ingun asked, noticing her expression. "Here, this should be a suitable thank you." She rummaged around under the counter for a moment before procuring a small coin purse and a key on a chain. "Take whatever you need from the chest. You'll always be welcome here."

Sigyn thanked her, tucking the key into her pocket and emptying the coins into her own purse. "Before I go, Ingun," she said, "I was wondering if you've heard anything…unusual, recently. Around these parts."

Ingun tilted her head quizzically. "Unusual?"

"Mm. Anything been found? Say, in the mountains?"

"Not that I know of." Ingun raised her eyebrows. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Oh, no," Sigyn said with a charming smile. "Just keeping up with the gossip. Thank you again, Ingun."

Leaving the shop, she glanced across the canal at the entrance to the Ratway. If anyone in Riften had information on Sheogorath's glove, it was Brynjolf. Sigyn hesitated. No. She was nothing if not thorough. She'd check the Bee & Barb first, make the trip to the Cistern later. Plus, she had something she wanted to attend to in the pub anyway.

She marched back up the canal stairs and took a left, raising a hand in greeting to Mjoll as she passed by and quickly entering the Bee & Barb before the knight could stop for a chat. The Lioness had a habit of telling the same stories a little too often and for a little too long. As much as Sigyn admired Mjoll's prowess in battle, she'd found castle-loads of followers who were just as skilled and a lot less loquacious.

One of whom was sitting slumped on a bench across the room.

Sigyn smiled and crossed the tavern, dropping down beside him. Marcurio started, saw her, and groaned. "Gods preserve me."

"_Darling_. I see time hasn't healed your impeccably horrible manners." She threw an arm around his shoulders and looked down at the book he was reading. _Dwemer Inquiries Vol. III. _"Well," she said after a minute or so of silence. "That looks unbelievably boring. You up for some adventuring?"

The mage closed the book. "I suppose." He got to his feet along with her. "My fee, please."

Sigyn laughed. "Fee? _Excuse me_, Sir Master of the Arcane Arts, but you've still got those Conjuration robes I bought for you last month, not to mention Chillrend. That more than covers your fee, thank you very much."

Marcurio sighed, sending a long-suffering glance skyward. "You'd pickpocket the money back from me anyway."

"Oh, darling, you know me too well. Go and get your stuff. I want to ask the barkeep something."

Marcurio nodded and headed for the stairs. Sigyn watched him, smiling, as he disappeared around the corner. She'd missed him, snarky comments and all. Now that she though about it, that probably wasn't a very good reflection of her taste in friends. Ah well.

She spotted Keerava behind the bar. The Argonian was cleaning the counter with a dirty cloth and talking quietly with another of the customers. Sigyn sidled up to them and waited for Keerava to notice her. It didn't take long.

"What are _you_ doing back here?" she asked accusingly.

Sigyn made a face. She still wasn't over it. "Look, Keerava, I said I was sorry–"

"I don't want to hear it. Tell me what you want and get out."

"Fine. Anything odd been found in the mountains around here?"

"No."

"Great. Bye."

Sigyn turned to see Marcurio lugging a heavy rucksack down the stairs. She sighed and went over to him, testing the weight of the pack with one hand. "Gods, what do you have in here?"

Marcurio heaved the pack onto his shoulder. "Books. Last time you brought me along on one of your quests you spent an hour looting the place. I get bored very easily, you know."

"I've noticed," Sigyn said dryly. "You complain fairly often."

"Ohh, you haven't seen the half of it, love. I'm holding back."

They left the tavern and paused for a moment as Sigyn checked the purse she'd filched from Keerava's customer. A few coins and two sapphires. Worth it.

"So, where are we headed?" Marcurio asked.

"You remember Brynjolf, don't you?"

The mage looked at her. "He punched me in the face."

"That's a yes then?"

"I really don't like you sometimes."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: In Which Brynjolf Sets the Standard For Men Everywhere

Sigyn led the way round to the chapel. She rarely ever went through the Ratway anymore, if she could help it, not when the secret entrance took her straight to the Cistern. She tugged on the chain and waited for the tomb to slide away, then held the manhole open for Marcurio as they climbed down the ladder. The mage crinkled his nose as they dropped into the passage.

"Nice to know the smell hasn't improved," he remarked.

Sigyn hit him lightly on the shoulder. "Mind your manners. I've known these people a lot longer than you, and gods know they're better company."

He was about to retort when Brynjolf rounded the corner. The big man was wearing his Nightingale Armour and reading a sheaf of parchment, and didn't notice Sigyn till he almost walked into her.

Brynjolf blinked in surprise, then grinned broadly. "Lass. Good to see you again. What brings you back to Rif–" He noticed Marcurio suddenly and scowled. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Marcurio stepped back a little, retreating behind Sigyn for protection. "I came under duress," he said hastily.

"I'm sure," Brynjolf muttered. He turned from the mage and took Sigyn by the shoulders, smiling once more. "You look well, lass. How's Skyrim been treating you?"

"As kindly as can be expected." She glanced around the room as Brynjolf led her to what had once been Mercer Frey's desk. The Cistern hadn't changed dramatically, but she could see that the money she'd earned for the Guild in the previous months had made improvements. The beds near the four entryways were less grubby looking. Tapestries had sprung up on the walls, adding a little colour to the slightly gloomy interior of the reservoir. Behind Frey's desk the shelves were filled with priceless artefacts she and other Guild members had collected. She saw the Left Eye of the Falmer high up on the top shelf; it's twin was sitting in her house in Solitude, taking pride of place beside her bed.

"Love what you've done with the place," Marcurio commented, eyeing with distaste the murky water on both sides of the walkway.

Brynjolf glared at him. "Don't push your luck." He gestured for Sigyn to take a seat. She shook her head. It had been almost six months since she'd killed Mercer Frey, but the desk still didn't feel like hers, and she still didn't like working at it. If she needed to attend to Guild business she'd do it sitting at a table in the Ragged Flagon, surrounded by the idle chatter of her friends.

"Now, lass, tell me what you need," said Brynjolf, supporting himself with both hands on the desk.

Sigyn hesitated. "I'm not really sure where to start."

He smiled. "You forget. Here in the Guild we don't care much about details. Just tell me what you want and I'll try my best to help you with it."

Sigyn turned to Marcurio. "Are you taking notes? Are you seeing how nice he treats me? This is what I expect from you."

He rolled his eyes and went back to inspecting the Crown of Barenziah.

Sigyn faced Brynjolf again. "What I need is information, rumours about something being found in the mountains down south."

Brynjolf stood back and scratched his chin. "Down south, you say? Mmn, nothing out of the ordinary, not that I know of. A troll attack on Stendarr's Beacon, a werewolf sighting." He looked up. "That wasn't you, was it?"

"_Brynjolf_," she said reprovingly. "I'm never sighted in wolf form. I have a reputation to protect. How about out west? Past Angarvunde?"

He thought about that for a moment, his brow creasing. "No…no, we haven't had any news from out that way for a while."

Sigyn sighed. "Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Well, thanks anyway, Brynjolf, it was worth a shot. Say hello to the others for me." She'd clasped hands with her friend and was halfway to the exit, Marcurio in tow, when Brynjolf called out for her to stop.

"Lass, wait! I just remembered now. I overheard Delvin saying something about an unusual avalanche that happened up Angarvunde-way."

She paused, frowning. "Maybe it _is_ this easy. What else did he say?"

"Don't recall. You should go talk to him."

"I will. Thank you."

She made her way towards the Ragged Flagon, stopping briefly to say hello to Etienne and Rune. Apparently Rune has been caught and jailed on his last assignment, and the others were having a wonderful time teasing him about it. Sigyn was still laughing as she entered the tavern.

The Guild's upgrades were most evident in the Ragged Flagon. Along the left walkway she could see braziers burning, illuminating the shops set up in the various alcoves. If she hadn't been on a quest she would've walked over and had a lovely old haggle with the fences. She spotted Delvin seated at a table by the bar, saying something to Vex that brought a rare smile to her face. They both looked around as Sigyn approached.

"Well, look who's back," Delvin said cheerfully. "With our favourite little mage, too. Did Brynjolf give you his customary greeting?"

Marcurio glowered at him. "No."

"Shame," Vex shrugged. "You here for more work?"

Sigyn shook her head. "I came for gossip, actually. Brynjolf said Delvin had heard about an avalanche up near Angarvunde."

"I have indeed." Delvin leant back in his chair. "Funny circumstances, didn't seem quite right."

"How so?"

"Pair of hunters saw some kind of meteor fall from the sky and hit the mountains. Lots of rubble, they said, but the avalanche came a couple of minutes later. There was a big bang, and then the whole side of the mountain went down. They said the weather went berserk too, when the meteor landed. Bit of a localised lightning storm, apparently."

"Sounds about right. Could you mark it on a map for me?"

"Sure, give it here."

Sigyn procured a map from her pack. The parchment was a little worse for wear; the edges were tattered, and the quadrants under the fold lines were almost indecipherable. Charcoal crosses, circles and ink blotches remained a testament to her many adventures in Skyrim. The left corner of the Sea of Ghosts had been completely torn off, taking with it Northwatch Keep and some other locations she couldn't remember the names of. Gods forbid she ever needed to quest up there.

Delvin grabbed a stick of charcoal from the bar and inspected the map for a moment, before circling a small area of mountains beside Angarvunde. "Should be thereabouts," he said, handing the map back to her. "Good luck with whatever it is you're looking for."

"Thanks, Delvin." She said goodbye to him and Vex and made for the exit, pocketing the map as she did so. "You got a cloak in that pack of yours?" she asked Marcurio.

He nodded, already looking unenthused.

"Good, because it's going to get very cold."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: In Which It Gets Very Cold

"Sigyn?"

"Yes?"

"I can't feel my toes."

"I've heard."

Marcurio paused. "There are a couple of other things I can't feel either."

"A true loss to the world," Sigyn said dryly.

There were very few times when Sigyn wished she'd been born a Nord. Now, trudging through heavy snow with the wind tearing at her hair, lips cracked, freezing cold and aching, was one of them.

"Are we there yet?"

Marcurio wasn't helping the situation.

She turned around to look at him, barely managing to keep a straight face; he was holding his hood so tightly closed that only the tip of his nose was visible. "We'll stop for a few minutes," she decided. "There's a cave up ahead, if memory serves."

'Cave' was not really the right name for the thing. It was more a shallow indentation in the rock face. But Marcurio practically dived inside when they reached it, and it was a welcome relief from the stinging snow.

"L-light a fire, would you?" Marcurio pleaded.

"Darling, _you're_ the mage in this relationship."

"_Please_?" he begged, huddled in the furthest corner of the cave with his knees drawn up to his chest. "I'm too cold to move."

Sigyn threw her hands in the air and strode back into the storm, quickly gathering some bracken from around the roots of a nearby tree and dumping them on the stone floor. "Why do I even bring you along?" she asked.

"S-someone needs to protect you from the mudcrabs."

She smiled and held her hands out to the wood. A second later it was ablaze. Marcurio shuffled over with incredible speed for a half-frozen man and placed himself almost on top of the flames.

"You'll singe yourself," Sigyn warned.

"Don't care."

Shrugging, Sigyn sat cross-legged beside him and looked out of the cave. The forest was barely visible through the snowstorm; she could only make out the vague shapes of tree trunks, dark columns against a white backdrop. The wind was still howling ferociously. Sigyn wondered if the bad weather was a present from Sheogorath. It seemed liked something the Madgod would do.

She fumbled around in her satchel with frozen fingers until she found her map. Spreading it out on the ground, she traced the path they'd taken through the mountains.

"How close are we?" asked Marcurio.

"Only a couple of hundred metres away, I think. As soon as the storm dies down we'll–"

A thunderous _crash! _shook the cave, dislodging chunks of rock from the ceiling, and a layer of dust that almost smothered the fire. Sigyn threw her arms over her head and waited for the shuddering to stop, before looking up to check on Marcurio. He blinked back at her from the recess of his hood.

"Was that a sign?"

Sigyn shook her head. "I doubt Sheogorath would be that helpful. It's either an aftershock of whatever caused the avalanche, or it means that somebody else has beat us to it." She got to her feet, brushing the dust off her armour. "Come on. Either way we should hurry."

Marcurio scowled as he followed her back out into the storm. "I can't believe we're going to all this trouble for a glove."

"Me neither," she muttered.

The snow deepened as they continued the trek, till they were up to their thighs in the stuff. Marcurio evidently decided he'd had enough, because he appeared beside Sigyn with his hands flaming, melting away the snow in front of them. Their boots were soon soaked, but it was better than trying to carve a path up the mountain. Visibility, however, was still a problem.

"_Oof!_"

Marcurio disappeared from beside her with a surprised exclamation. Sigyn's hand flew immediately to her sword, but she'd taken a step in the wrong direction and was soon skidding down a rocky slope after the mage.

Her slide was short-lived. She ran (quite literally) into Marcurio at the bottom, and they both lay where they had fallen for a moment, a bit stunned, in a tangle of limbs and satchels and swords. An almighty roar shocked them to their feet.

"What was that?" Marcurio hissed.

Sigyn listened closely as the roar sounded again, echoing through the tunnel they'd slid into. "Frost troll," she decided. "It must have fallen with the cave in." They'd seen one on the way up the mountain, pulling apart the carcass of a deer, but had given it a wide berth and quickly moved on. Didn't seem like they'd be able to avoid the beast now.

She nocked an arrow to her bow, leading the way down the tunnel. Rubble was strewn everywhere, as well as a goodly amount of snow, and sickly green stalagmites lined their path.

The tunnel narrowed and turned sharply to the right. Sigyn slowed and carefully glanced around the corner. She grimaced.

"Well, I guess someone else _did_ get here before us."

Marcurio stuck his head over her shoulder to get a look at the mutilated body that lay in several pieces along the passageway floor.

"Bandit?"

"Mm."

"Bastards," he said distastefully.

"Mm."

They skirted around the dead bandit and continued down the tunnel, pausing occasionally when the frost troll bellowed particularly loudly. Soon the beast's roars were joined by human screams. The tunnel narrowed once more, but up ahead Sigyn could see the ceiling disappear as it ended in a large open space. The shouts increased in volume. She could hear crashes, and the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. Somebody let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Sigyn pulled her bowstring taut and proceeded the rest of the way in a low crouch. She could hear Marcurio behind her, muttering under his breath and cursing as he tripped over a rock. She smiled. He was not the most stealthy of companions. After a tense minute of tiptoeing they reached the end of the passageway, and looked out on the scene below them.

Two frost trolls were wreaking havoc amongst a group of bandits in a huge, rubble-strewn cavern. Light streamed in from narrow holes in the ceiling, bathing the cave in cool blue light that glinted off the ice and the weapons of the bandits. As Sigyn and Marcurio watched, the larger of the trolls picked one unlucky outlaw up and tore his head off, barely giving him a chance to scream.

Marcurio winced as blood splattered across the walls. "I suggest we let the bandits take care of the trolls," he whispered.

Sigyn nodded, edging back out of view. She'd barely taken a step when something moved in the passage behind her.

"What the–"

A third frost troll, having crept up silently behind them, let out an deafening roar and raised its arms to attack. Sigyn yelped and skittered away from the beast. Marcurio dragged her backwards into the cavern, and the troll's fists slammed into the ground where she'd been crouched a moment before, leaving a small crater in the stone.

Sigyn scrambled to her feet as the frost troll advanced upon them, snarling.

"Well," she breathed, swapping her bow for a sword. "Looks like that plan went out the window."


End file.
